“No, you’re fine.” Also in unison.
I take a deep breath and gesture for him to go.
“Let’s sit,” Niyi says as he pulls out one of the office chairs. I move to his right, about to pull out my own chair, but his throat-clearing stops me in my tracks. “This chair is for you,” he says.
“Oh.”
As I take the seat, a wall of incense, cedar, and pepper hit me, mixed with some sweet elements that I desperately want to identify. I thought Cole had an impressive cologne taste, but Niyi’s mix of woody tones with lighter aromatic and fruity ones is much more complex.
It’s not until he speaks that I notice he has taken the seat to my right.His captivating scent still lingers, and it takes everything in me to focus on why we’re here.
“Ready to begin?” Niyi asks, not bothering to smile like Merc did during their introduction. Straight to business, I see.
“Yes.” I follow suit.
“As much as our system works, there’s nothing better than meeting the person involved; hence this meeting. I want to get to know you…to serve you, of course.”
Before I can respond, Niyi opens up the packet he’s been carrying. He takes out a document with an embossedCupid’s Bowlogo on the side. “Take your time.” He hands it over with a sophisticated, deep-purple fountain pen.
Years of scanning medical journals and patient charts make the contract a quick read. In my brief once-over, I note the details Niyi and I previously outlined.
Three dates. Three debrief sessions. A fat check. My personal coach—Niyi. A dedicated matchmaker, only written here as Saturn.
I imagine another Merc-like figure. The higher-ups must use astrological names to maintain business identity—I respect it. Plus, the Saturn individual being my matchmaker makes the most sense. My heart aches as I remember this Saturn person had the misfortune of reading Drunk Moyo’s complaint.
Everything else looks good, so I sign and slide the contract back to Niyi. He extends his hand, sending another whiff my way. It takes me a second to register the appropriate response. Once I do, it’s a firm handshake. Firm, but comfortable.
“Welcome to theCupid’s Bowcoaching program.” I expect a smile but his face remains straight. “Now, tell me a bit about yourself. How was your day? How was work?”
“Good. Long, busy day today, but that’s normal.” I repeat the typical polite reply I’m used to giving for small talk. My mind gives a little highlight reel of the day, and in the absence of doing a full shoulder roll to relieve tension—too conspicuous—I methodically pick at my nail beds.
Something flickers in Niyi’s eyes. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Don’t know if it’s the ornate pink surroundings, but instead of brushing him off, I loosen up. First, with my preferred shoulder roll. And then with my words.
“Back-to-back sessions. I successfully got management to see one client pro bono, and it went great. Lovely kid, great family. I’m happy it all worked out. Now I’m trying to see another family, and management is giving me even more shit—” The words keep tumbling out. “It’s like, despite everything I’ve done, and how successful the last pro bono work went, they still don’t care. It’s almost comical because in a few months, at the Foundation Gala, the CEO will rave about my work because it brings in good publicity. If only some of that money went into the pro bono work, instead of making me beg…”
Niyi nods slowly as I carry on, laying my frustration about hospital politics and red tape at his feet. It’s not how I expected our first meeting to start, but he’s a good listener. I’m comfortable sharing under his watchful eye and stoic expression, which is a good thing, seeing as he’s my dating coach and all.
Soon I’m doing the thing the girls always jokingly chastise me for: responding to my own questions or dilemmas before my listener can answer. But somehow, Niyi remains calm. Nodding appropriately and littering well-fittinghmms as needed.
Once I’m done, I let out a weary sigh. Half-shy that I spoke uninterrupted for almost twenty minutes but also relieved to get things off my chest. “Sorry for the rambling. It’s been a long day, and I haven’t had time to talk to my girls.”
“No problem at all,” Niyi says. “Having a clear head before we dive in is best. And, Moyo,” he pauses, and I’m forced to look into his warm brown eyes. “I asked you to share. Don’t apologize.”
Sheepishly, I say, “Thanks.”
The air is thick for a moment, like right before heavy rain showers. Gloomy with a cooling quality that promotes watching a movie in bed.
I could bask in this, if this were a date and my relationship with Niyi weren’t professional.
“Enough about me,” I say, dispersing the rain clouds. “Tell me about your day.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. We’re here for you.”
Niyi attempts to keep it moving, reopening the folder with numerous papers, but I stop his hurried movements by laying my fingers on the back of his palm.
His skin is quite smooth.My thoughts begin to wander, but Niyi’s look of disbelief at the contact banishes them.
